


Perchance to Dream

by SailorSol



Series: Uncommon Valor [4]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Accidentally hitting a partner, Adapting to life after war, Dred Priest is Awful, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hot Chocolate, Neyo fails at self awareness, Neyo needs a hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, trauma responses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29880489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorSol/pseuds/SailorSol
Summary: He's trembling.It's oh-kark-thirty in the morning and Neyo hadn't been sleeping anyway, but now he's sitting with his back pressed against the outside wall of Bacara's house, trembling like a second stage cadet fresh off the live fire range for the first time. He'd laugh, but it's not actually funny and he's not sure it wouldn't devolve into something more self-pitying once he started.
Relationships: CC-1138 Bacara & CC-8826 Neyo, CC-1138 | Bacara/CT-7567 | Rex, CC-8826 | Neyo/CT-0292 | Vaughn
Series: Uncommon Valor [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893043
Comments: 13
Kudos: 64
Collections: Open Source Soft Wars





	Perchance to Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in Projie's Soft Wars universe, at some indeterminate time probably within the first year or so of OVD.
> 
> Thanks to Cmon for the beta.

He's trembling.

It's oh-kark-thirty in the morning and Neyo hadn't been sleeping anyway, but now he's sitting with his back pressed against the outside wall of Bacara's house, trembling like a second stage cadet fresh off the live fire range for the first time. He'd laugh, but it's not actually funny and he's not sure it wouldn't devolve into something more self-pitying once he started.

There's the sound of a door and the scuff of feet on dirt. It’s noise that the Marine wouldn’t normally make, which means he’s doing it for Neyo’s sake. The thought itches at Neyo but doesn’t have the chance to take hold as Bacara slides down the wall next to him, inches between their shoulders. Neyo wants to close the distance but it feels like parsecs and he can't quite convince himself right now that it's something he’s allowed.

Bacara doesn't say anything, doesn't ask why Neyo turned up in the middle of the night to lurk outside his house. Neyo thinks Bacara could outwait a sarlacc sometimes. It's an amusing mental image that he wishes he'd thought of at a better time, when he could fully appreciate his cleverness. He’d have to remember to share that one with Rex the next time Bacara was being particularly obstinate. 

Neyo holds a hand out in front of him. There's enough light from one of the moons that Bacara will be able to see the way it's shaking. Bacara already knows all of his weaknesses; letting him see this loses him nothing. Their shoulders bump briefly, but that's the only acknowledgment Bacara gives. The door opens and closes again, footsteps moving away from the house. Once they've faded, Bacara finds his voice.

“There'll be Hoth chocolate on the stove.”

Neyo huffs out a not-laugh and levers himself to his feet. No use sitting out here when the good stuff is inside. He offers his still trembling hand to Bacara, who concedes to use it to favor his bad knee. The house is brightly lit as they move inside, a stark contrast to the almost moonless spring night outside. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, Neyo thinks, but he’s never been overly fond of metaphors. Neyo settles on a stool at the kitchen island, Bacara pouring out mugs for both of them on the opposite side before moving to join him.

Neyo cradles the warm mug in his hands, willing them to steady as he stares into the dark liquid as if it holds the answers to questions he can’t quite phrase. Bacara still hasn’t asked Neyo why he’s there; he won’t, either, and in some ways Neyo finds it frustrating. Faie or Appo would have gone straight for the soft spot and twisted the knife until Neyo chose to give them enough of an admission to satiate them. Mostly, though, Bacara’s silence is a familiar comfort. Neither of them expects anything from the other that they can’t give.

The chocolate is creamy and sweet, a hint of cinnamon lingering on Neyo’s tongue. He shudders as the warmth settles into his bones, chasing away a chill he’d barely noticed. “I hit Vaughn.”

There’s no recrimination, but Neyo didn’t expect any. Bacara hums acknowledgement instead, and continues to wait for Neyo to be ready.

“I was awake, working on a project. Bad night.” Neyo doesn’t need to offer further explanation there; every vod who fought in the war had nightmares. “I wasn’t paying attention.” In some ways, that was easier and harder to admit. Even on his worst nights, when blaster fire and the dying screams of his brothers echoed in his ears, he felt  _ safe _ in the house he shared with Vaughn. 

Not safe enough, apparently.

“Didn’t hear him come to check on me. Must’ve thought I had, otherwise he wouldn’t have...” He steals another sip of the chocolate to try and banish the lump forming in his throat. “Startled me. Reacted without thinking.”

“Is he injured?”

“No. Not--he’ll probably have a black eye, but I don’t think I broke his wrist.” He pushes the mug away, the chocolate suddenly too cloying, choking him with its sweetness. He sighs, scrubbing at tired eyes. He isn’t sure what to do now, and that leaves him feeling vulnerable and exposed. “I’m such a karking idiot.”

“Probably,” Bacara says. Neyo snorts in dry amusement, but Bacara continues. “But not because of this.”

“Thanks, tat, I appreciate that.”

“If you were looking for comfort, you’d have gone to Colt.”

He isn’t wrong; Bacara is softer than most people will ever give him credit for, but he also wouldn’t coddle Neyo or give him the easy out. Not that Colt would either, but there would be more sugar-coating and careful maneuvering around jagged edges in a way that would try Neyo’s patience. “Do you ever wonder if war is all we’re good for? Causing pain?”

Bacara doesn’t answer immediately, but he’s always chosen his words carefully. Neyo waits for him to be ready, the way Bacara always waits for him, steady and silent. “We were made for war, but I don’t think it’s all that we’re good for.”

Neyo considers the response. He’s heard it before, but even seven months after the vode walked away from the war, he’s not sure he can believe it. Priest had spent six years trying to crush Neyo’s humanity, cutting away bits and pieces until he fit the mold. Neyo had spent those six years burying parts of himself deeper and deeper until Priest couldn’t tell the difference.

Sometimes Neyo fears he pushed them so far down that he can’t find them anymore. The twisted irony of the war was that it had given him more freedom to be the man he wanted to be, and not the monster Priest tried to make him into. But now there was no war, and no one telling Neyo who or what he was supposed to be.

_ I don’t think that it’s all we’re good for. _

Vaughn believed that. He knew what Neyo was capable of, the kind of monster he could be. But somehow he always managed to see past the carefully crafted facade to draw out those parts of Neyo he feared he’d forgotten. It terrifies Neyo, the way Vaughn leaves himself so exposed, especially on nights like this one, when he feels like he has so very little control of himself.

But that was the unspoken part of Bacara’s response, wasn’t it? They were made for war, but they were capable of so much more, as long as they were willing to try for it. Things like love and family and  _ peace _ weren’t beyond their grasps. Neyo had spent years thinking about this, the  _ softness _ that men like Vaughn and Bly and even Bacara allowed themselves to show.

Neyo doesn’t understand how someone can allow themselves to be so vulnerable without being  _ weak _ . But there is nothing about Vaughn he could ever call weak. He may be sunshine and polycotton fluff on the outside, but he has a core of durasteel, and he hadn’t even flinched when Neyo had lashed out. Hadn’t done more than back away to give Neyo space, and was probably-- _ hopefully _ \--waiting for Neyo to come home so they could talk about it.

He doesn’t know what it is that Vaughn sees in him, that makes Vaughn think Neyo is capable of more than just pain and destruction. But he wants so badly to believe it’s true, wants it badly enough that he’s willing to do what he’s always done and push away his own fears and reservations to become what someone else sees in him. This time, at least, it would truly make him a better  _ person _ , something Neyo also wants for himself.

“You’re right, of course,” he finally says, pulling his mug back to finish his drink. It wouldn’t do to let good chocolate go to waste, after all. His hands have stopped shaking as the fear and adrenaline faded. It isn’t going to be easy, but at least he’s got a direction now, and the stubbornness of a gundark to go with it. 

“Does that mean you’re done brooding for the night?” 

“I wasn’t  _ brooding _ ,” Neyo protests, falling back into their usual banter.

Bacara gives him a sideways look and makes an unimpressed noise. He grabs Neyo’s empty mug and stands up, moving back around the island to drop their mugs into the sink. “Of course not. Are you planning on ruining the rest of my night by snoring on the couch?”

“And have to wake up to your ugly face? I don’t think so. I happen to have a very attractive man waiting at home for me.” Neyo stands and stretches his arms over his head, back popping. 

“Right, and when you get there, be sure to send mine home,” Bacara says.

Neyo plasters on his best grin. “I don’t know, I’ve thought about dual wielding a pair of sexy sidearms, now seems like the perfect chance.”

Bacara rolls his eyes. “Disgraceful.”

Neyo lets the sharp edges of his grin fade. “Thanks.”

Bacara shrugs. “I didn’t say anything you haven’t heard before.”

“I suppose not, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t need to hear it again. And, uh, sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night.”

Bacara shrugs again. “Apologize properly later. After we’ve all gotten some sleep.”

Neyo tosses him a casual kark-you-kindly salute and heads back out into the night. He’s got a lot of work ahead of him if he wants to find out what he’s truly capable of being.


End file.
